The Flu-ke in the Truth
by Story Please
Summary: Severus Snape does not get sick very often. In fact, if you were to ask him, the answer would be more like "never." However, when he wakes up with two pointed ears and a pounding headache, it will have to be up to a certain sea otter animagus Healer to save him from himself.


Written for: Bonus Round #2: Magical Illnesses

Captain's Round Prompt: Black Cat Flu

Prompts Used: (dialogue) "No! Don't take that one!", (word) green, (item) vial

Word Count: 6,234

Author's Note: According to the Wiki, the last Black Cat Flu outbreak was in January of 1996, but that's pretty much all I can glean about the condition. So, of course, I'm going to take some artistic liberties for fun and evil plot purposes. Muahahaha!

Additional note: Sea otters have a natural pouch/pocket to hold their favorite rock (it's a Thing, look it up). Hermione's has been repurposed to hold her wand while in animagus form. That's my headcanon and I'm sticking to it.

Beta Appreciation: Many thanks to Sekdaniels and Ebenbild for pushing my prose around.

* * *

The Flu-ke in the Truth

Severus swam out of sleep only to find that his head was pounding with pain.

"A-tchu!" He sneezed and then frowned. Something was terribly, terribly wrong with his voice.

With a rising sense of panic, Severus fought the sheets, but they simply refused to release him. With a hoarse cry, he finally tumbled free, hitting the cold stone floor with a loud thump. Rubbing his head, his hands brushed against something unusual. His fingers stilled with shock, then gingerly moved over two fuzzy protuberances that were most certainly not there the night before.

He rushed to the small mirror that hung over his bathroom sink.

Ears. Cat ears, to be exact.

Black eyes stared back at him in the mirror with a glazed expression. His sallow face was unnaturally red where his cheeks were flushed with fever. His gray nightgown was drenched with sweat and stuck horribly to his clammy skin. Something fuzzy and long wiggled behind his back of its own accord.

Severus froze, turned around, and climbed back into bed.

This is just a dream, this is just a dream, he repeated over and over to himself.

"Severus?" Minerva's voice was coming from the floo.

Blast and damnation.

"What do you want?" was what he was trying to say, but instead it came out as "Mauw mauw mew meow?"

Instantly, Severus covered his mouth, his face frozen with shock. He tried again.

"Mew? Meow Meow?"

"You had better be decent, Severus Snape, because I'm coming in," Minerva said, her foot already sticking out of the fireplace.

"NYOW!" Severus yowled, but it was too late.

* * *

Hermione was pulled from a dead sleep by the sudden heavy pressure of a very upset tabby animagus leaping onto her chest.

Thank goodness you're here! I need your healing skills at once!

Hermione's eyes opened fully at the sound of Minerva's frantic mind-voice.

"Whatever is the matter?" Hermione rubbed the sleep from her eyes and rolled into a sitting position, her feet toeing the floor for her slippers.

It's Severus! Come quick!

Hermione glared at Minerva. "He's just going to tell me to get stuffed again. You know how much he hates when I try to interfere."

It's not his scars this time, though Merlin knows he should stop being a stubborn arse about them.

Hermione sighed. "Must you use your animagus form to tell me this? I have to focus to understand you when I'm in human form and I feel like I'm on the precipice of developing a migraine." She stood and walked over to a small cabinet near the window and pulled out a green vial of Pepperup Potion, then downed it in one gulp. With a grimace, Hermione then set the bottle on the windowsill, where the light cast a green hue around the room.

It's the Black Cat Flu, Hermione.

Hermione froze, her eyes widening with alarm. "But there's no cure! Are you absolutely sure?"

You can't attend to him like that, my dear.

Hermione frowned for a moment and then nodded. "Of course. Let me get my other bag."

* * *

Hermione hadn't been particularly interested in developing an animagus form, but Madam Pomfrey had worn her down.

"It's absolutely essential for hundreds of potential reasons!" Madam Pomfrey had said, after shifting back from her animagus form.

"I still don't see what good being a dove could be when treating injured patients," Hermione had replied, still skeptical. She knew from her research just how involved the process was, and how many people never even properly found their animagus forms after all that hard work. Her apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey had been hard enough without adding a mandrake leaf under her tongue for a month.

"Just you wait until your have a student trapped under rubble with a serious injury! Or a student who is stuck at the top of a tree thanks to accidental magic!" Madam Pomfrey had worn Hermione down over a series of months and finally, Hermione relented. She braced herself for the long and arduous process, her eyes stinging from the lack of sleep she was sure to suffer from.

She'd slipped into her sea otter animagus form on her first try.

Showoff, Minerva had said, winking and swishing her tail with pride. The registration paperwork was already on its way to the Ministry by the time Hermione had shifted back into her human form.

After that, Madam Pomfrey insisted that Hermione call her by her first name. "There's nothing more I can teach you," she'd said, "from here on out, each experience will be your guide."

In celebration of her achievement, Poppy had gifted Hermione with a special medical bag. Not only was it charmed to be waterproof and seal everything safely inside, but it would fit on her back with little to no issue, and each of the items inside were sized to fit her dainty paws.

But now, it was summer, and Poppy was off visiting her relations for the next six weeks. Hermione had thought she'd be bored. Little did she know what would await her.

Where is he? Hermione ambled awkwardly alongside Minerva as they raced down the stairs.

In his room. I couldn't carry him in this state.

Hermione gulped. Severus would be furious. He had never allowed her in his quarters, not even when he'd been ill with a particularly bad cold the year before and had actually missed teaching his classes (which was unheard of). In fact, ever since they'd become colleagues at Hogwarts, he had never allowed her within five feet of him without giving her a sneer to end all sneers and swiftly disappearing with a billow of his teaching robes. The only time he'd treated her with anything less than utter derision was when they verbally sparred over tea in the staffroom before a staff meeting about the best treatments for magical ailments and, of course, he was coldly professional when he dropped off additional stores to the Infirmary, but Hermione attributed that more to his respect of Poppy's rules for absolute silence and politeness, nothing more.

Hermione had always suspected that perhaps he resented her for being taken under Poppy's wing. Poppy had confirmed her suspicions when she confided in Hermione that Severus had petitioned to become a healer as many times as he'd petitioned to take the DADA position. Now with Minerva as Headmaster, Severus had sunk back into his old post teaching Potions. Despite having chosen to come back and teach the subject, Snape was as bitter as ever.

"It's almost as though he's gotten stuck in a rut that he hates but he doesn't know anything else, so he stays there and suffers in silence," she murmured to herself.

What was that, my dear? Minerva was halfway down the stairs and turned back, her tail curling in a question mark.

"I'll be right there. Just let me get my things." Silently scolding herself for daydreaming, Hermione shrunk down to otter size and scurried to the supply cabinet at once.

* * *

Severus groaned as he heard the floo activate again. He'd thrown himself under his duvet the moment Minerva had entered, but she'd seen the pointed, twitching ears on his head before he could hide them. She'd shrunken down to her animagus form at that point, and Severus had been mortified by the sensation of a tail bursting from his backside as she poked her feline head under the covers with a questioning chirp.

"MEOW-NERV-NYEW!" he bellowed, not even noticing that her name had come out all wrong, and she darted back, her tail bristling like a bottle brush. Then she'd run to the floo and disappeared.

His mind, sluggish and feverish as it was, instantly thought of Poppy. She'd know what to do. Then, his memory caught up with him, and he remembered that Poppy would be gone for quite a few weeks yet, leaving—

Oh. Oh no. No, no, no, no. Anyone but her.

Of all the indignities, Severus could not think of anything worse than the idea of Hermione Granger putting her grubby little hands on him and nursing him back to health. She had gotten everything she'd wanted, and he was old and had nothing to show for it. She was smarter than she had any right to be, and she knew it, too. With a sense of impending doom, Severus imagined that she would smugly look down at his stupidity for catching such a horrible illness. He couldn't remember where he might have caught the disease, which hadn't been seen since the mid-nineties.

Well, I am known to be particularly unlucky, he thought gloomily. He had, after all, been to Diagon Alley recently, and during the summer months, bustling crowds of wizarding folk visited from all corners of the world.

He thought back to what he knew about the disease. There was no known cure for it, but there were potions that could ease the symptoms and make it easier for the body to fight it off. Normally, the progression of the illness was similar to the Muggle flu other than the...unfortunate cat-themed side effects. Still, Severus wasn't an idiot. He knew that it was very easy for dehydration or a runaway fever to cause things to turn deadly very quickly.

His feverish mind was still trying to decide on whether he ought to call for food from the elves or starve the fever (as the Muggle saying went), when the floo activated again.

Double blast! He thought, his mind going to panicky places. Only Minerva's floo was hooked up to visit his quarters, so he wasn't surprised to see her loping in on furry paws. But the fully-grown sea otter ambling through after her made his heart flip-flop.

So. She had come.

A small pack was strapped to Hermione's back, and she stood on her hind paws to rummage around in it with her clever little paws. She then made her way over to his bed, though he noticed she seemed a bit unsure of herself. Was she afraid of him? He hoped so. She could never learn the truth of it, especially not now while he was brought low by fever and rogue cat anatomy.

"Nyew maou!" he said, forgetting that he was speaking cat-gibberish in his current state.

The otter stood, her eyes level with his, and he felt a tiny nudge in his head, asking gently to let her in.

Fine, he thought, two can play at that game.

He gave her enough space to let her thoughts be translated to him, but no more. Even so, he could feel her staying put; no obvious interest in trying to read his racing, chaotic thoughts or look at his memories. Still, that was no reason to let down his guard.

I heard that you have Black Cat Flu symptoms, Severus, she said with her mind-voice. This illness is severe and can sometimes prove fatal, so I've come to make sure you're well-attended until you're out of the worst of it.

Severus tried not to flinch at her usage of his first name. Out of all of the staff (besides Minerva), only Hermione dared to call him Severus; and while he tolerated it from Minerva, he disparaged the instances where Hermione referred to him as such. They weren't friends after all, and he couldn't bear to think of what it would mean if she actually meant it when she asked after him. No, he rationalized, it must be a cruel joke, or her way of trying to show that she was superior to him, and Severus could not stand being made a fool of.

While your concern is appreciated, he said, his mind-voice dripping with sarcasm, I doubt your...services will be needed. I am, after all, a Potions master. I can attend to my own needs.

Is that so? The otter put her paws on her hips in a very un-otter-like manner. Well, then, I suppose you wouldn't mind demonstrating that you can get to your potions stores without deviating from walking in a straight line.

It was a trap. They both knew that Severus would barely manage a generous zig zag in his current state.

There are plenty of ways to suit my needs, Severus replied, I am a wizard and can simply use my wand to fetch anything I require.

Is that so? Hermione tapped one of her paws impatiently on the ground. By all means...

What? Severus stared at her, his cat-ears pricking towards her as she wiggled her whiskers.

Prove. It.

Severus grabbed his wand. He wasn't sure why he was willing to humor her, but something in her stance told him that she wasn't beneath grabbing him with her paws and shoving medicine down his protesting throat.

Accio Pepperup Potion! He thought.

Nothing happened.

Scowling at his wand, he tried again.

Accio Pepperup Potion! His wand sparked a little from the tip and then sputtered out.

As you have just demonstrated, you do need help! Hermione's mind-voice was victorious.

Severus could feel his tail swishing back and forth involuntarily. I've had worse. I just need my rest.

You're going to need something for your fever. Hermione opened her satchel and grabbed a number of phials of liquid, holding them up to the light and then setting them aside. Finally, she grabbed the right one, and placed it on the end of the table, then turned to rummage in her bag one more. Now where was that spoon?

Spoon? Severus was horrified. Was she actually going to attempt to administer the potion to him like a child?! He would not stand for this! Severus lunged forward, grabbing one of them from the table.

No! Don't take that one! Hermione tried to snatch it back, but her little otter paws didn't have long enough of a reach.

"I know what I'm doing," Severus slurred (the words actually came out more like "Nyai nyow myut nyiam maumau"), and hastily threw back his head, pouring the contents down his throat.

Instantly, he made a terrible choking noise and Hermione flung herself to the floor as he vomited a three foot pillar of flame. The fire mostly burned itself out in moments, but the tapestry on the far wall was somewhat singed, and Hermione rushed to stomp out a few cinders that had landed on the throw rug.

Fires attended to, Hermione then turned and stomped her foot angrily. Circe's unshaven arse, Severus! That was Dragonwort Tincture!

Severus' mouth tasted like burning rubber and regret and he was momentarily in far too much pain to realize that Hermione's swearing abilities rivaled Minerva after a few glasses of Ogden's. I could have sworn it was the right one.

The otter animagus' eyes narrowed. I don't care if it's the sickness or your stupid pride, but you're acting like a complete numpty, Severus. Now, I'll grant you a bit of leeway because you're got a fever, um, among other things (at this, she tried not to stare at his ears), but you must stop grabbing my tools just because you're not used to anyone trying to help you!

Severus crossed his arms, then hastily uncrossed them as it seemed to make his pounding headache even worse. I reserve the right to remain doubtful.

Well despite any reservations you might have, please believe me when I say that I care about your health, Severus. Hermione turned and pulled out a silver measuring spoon from her bag. She added a small amount from several of the phials and then mixed them together into a small conjured paper cup. Here. Drink this. It's for your head and sinuses, as well as any nausea you might have.

Severus took it with shaking hands. It did not escape his notice that his fingernails had grown longer and more claw-like than before. He downed the concoction with a grimace. The burning ache on his tongue began to recede as the medication began to work its magic. To his horror, Hermione had begun setting up a worktable on his desk with pre-measured medication covered with a Tempus Charm to keep them fresh. She'd also somehow produced a small pile of books from somewhere, which made it clear she intended to stay.

As you are aware, Black Cat Flu is incredibly virulent in human beings, but individuals in animagus form are essentially immune to it due to our transformation to a completely different species. Until we can be sure you are fully recovered, we will need to sequester you in your quarters for the foreseeable future. This illness can also range from mostly benign to life-threatening, and there is little indication which way your particular case will go at present. However, considering your past experience with cursed wounds and near-death at the hands of Nagini, we don't want to take any chances. Since Minerva and I are the only animaguses in the castle at the moment, we've already worked out a schedule for watching over you until the worst of it is over. Hermione gave him a pointed look. All you can do now is rest, Severus.

And if I don't want to rest? Severus felt as though he were buried under a pile of boulders and his prickly throat, while much improved, protested against being forced to remain conscious. He wanted to sleep, but he did not want someone else to see him in such a vulnerable state. Shall I be forced to endure tedious conversation on inane topics?

She placed a gentle paw on his hand for a moment, her dark eyes sparkling oddly in the candlelight. I'm not your enemy, Severus. I'm here to help. Truly. But if my presence offends you that much, then I promise I won't bother you unless it's a matter of life or death. With that, Hermione turned and ambled over to her stack of books, grabbed one gingerly in her mouth, then pulled it up onto one of Severus' wingback chairs and began to read.

Severus immediately felt like a bastard, which normally didn't bother him in the least. This time, however, he became intensely aware of the fact that he had been unfairly cruel, which only further fueled the desire to correct it somehow. There was one problem, though. He had almost no experience in apologizing for anything; much less doing so in a way that wouldn't make him look like an utter fool.

Rather than try and most assuredly fail, Severus chose to close his eyes and pretend to sleep.

It didn't work in the least.

After at least an hour of listening to Hermione turn the pages at a speed even he found impressive, Severus finally coughed softly to get her attention. Her ears flicked backwards, but she made no attempt to move.

He coughed louder to no effect. She might as well have been a statue.

At this point, Severus knew that she had heard him perfectly well. He laid there and contemplated his situation; or, more to the point, what he was going to do about it. Rashly, he had all but demanded for her to leave. He couldn't even blame the fever at this point, as the medication had nearly eliminated the sensation of tiny sledgehammers that had been previously accosting his brain. He turned over every single possibility, until he finally realized that there was only one thing he could say. It wouldn't be easy, but for the moment, his necessity won over his pride.

I'm sorry, Hermione.

She turned her head slightly. What was that?

I said...I am sorry. I should not have been cruel to you when you were trying to help. You are merely trying to do your job and I have made it harder than it has to be.

Her ears briefly flicked back and she placed the book on the arm of the chair with a soft sound. She stood, and made her way over. Why?

Why, what?

You've admitted that you are making it harder than it has to be. So...why?

He scoffed, his head growing more miserably hot than ever. Must there be a reason beyond my own nature?

Hermione tilted her head slightly in puzzlement. I know how you choose to behave. Your nature is far less clear...though I suspect that this is by design.

Severus felt panic rising in his chest. It was over, it was all over; he'd been found out! He steeled himself and took a few deep breaths. I am sure I do not know what you're talking about.

You're sick with an unpredictable illness, and we both know that there is always a chance that things will take a turn for the worst. Don't you owe it to yourself to be honest once in your life?

At once, Severus felt the very strong urge to come clean and tell her everything, but he managed to tamp it back down again. The damn fever was clouding his judgment! It couldn't be her maddening scent- like cinnamon and parchment— that was causing him to grow weak in the knees. In fact, he began to realize that it was not only his knees that were beginning to feel weakness. I think I may need another fever reducing potion...I—

Severus slumped forward, murmuring a few sigh-like meows before he lost consciousness altogether.

* * *

Immediately, Hermione leapt into action. She knew that Black Cat Flu was prone to sudden fevers, but she'd been certain that the mixture she'd concocted would hold him at least for a few hours. She swore as she raised her paw to his forehead. He was burning up.

First, she measured out more fever reducing potion and tipped his head back. It lolled almost bonelessly and she stabilized him (which was hard with short, furry arms, but she managed). She tipped his lips open and massaged his throat gently as she poured the medicine into his mouth so that he would swallow without choking. He moaned softly in pain and she felt the part of her heart that refused to give up on him swell with worry.

Truth be told, she had tried particularly hard to become his friend after the war. He'd been so isolated and alone and she'd had noble intentions...at first.

When she'd first found him recuperating in the isolation wing at St. Mungo's, it was only a few weeks after she'd lost Ron. Broken up over the loss of Fred and the horrors of the battle, but too prideful to talk about it to anyone, Ron finally could not take it any longer and had taken his life. Fresh with grief and tremendous guilt from not seeing the warning signs until it was too late, Hermione had thrown herself into Healing, and she would be damned if anyone she knew would be left to suffer alone until living was too much to bear. And so, she'd been persistent to the point of being annoying about checking in on him once Severus returned home from the hospital.

Unfortunately for her, Severus Snape was particularly well versed in rebuking attempts to become more than the merest of acquaintances. Still, she'd worn him down with a round of impromptu visits, and the gifts of tea or books that she wanted to share didn't hurt, either. He would always bluster and try to discourage her; but Hermione was persistent. Eventually, after months of dogged determination, they would spend hours reading quietly in his front room. She began to see a gentler, kinder side of him. He had even begun greeting her what she realized passed as a Snape version of a smile when he found her at his door with her latest offering.

However, as soon as they both had begun to work at Hogwarts together, their camaraderie had abruptly dissolved altogether, and Hermione had been trying hard to win it back ever since. She couldn't tell exactly why it was her fault, but she reasoned that it simply had to be. Either he hadn't actually come to enjoy her company and she'd read their interactions all wrong, or she'd mucked everything up somehow.

The thought that he'd been faking his enjoyment was so utterly horrifying to her, that her brain refused to process it as an option.

And now… She looked down at him fondly. Even though he was obviously ill, she felt the stirring of joy in her heart to simply be near to him and give him the care and consideration he deserved. She started by fluffing up his pillows and rearranging him in the bed. She pulled back the duvet and used her wand to dry them of sweat. A cool washcloth, charmed to stay cool, was placed on his forehead.

Hermione put her paw on Severus' hand. Oh, Severus, whatever happened to make me so utterly repugnant to you? The black cat ears on his head twitched as if in reply. Severus' face was flushed around his cheeks and forehead, but the rest of his face was pale and strained-looking. Before Hermione quite knew what she was doing, she bent over and pressed her cold nose against his. He shifted in his sleep and she felt the tingling sensation of his thoughts pressing out against her consciousness.

Hermione...I...I can't let you know…we can't... His thoughts became intangible, then, and Hermione nearly shook him awake.

Can't let her know? What couldn't he let her know? Instantly, Hermione began imagining all manner of reasons, magical or otherwise, that might keep Severus from spending time with her, and she kept coming up blank. Most of the spells she knew of that would force two people apart had to be initiated by one of the parties in question, and she knew she hadn't done anything to that effect.

When Minerva came to take over for her, Hermione asked the headmistress if she knew of any reason why Severus would not be able to fraternize with her as they had before.

I wish I could tell you, Hermione, but I'm afraid I've been sworn to secrecy on the matter, Minerva said as she curled up in the crook of Severus' arm and began to purr. However, if you are still looking for answers, might I suggest a good book? I hear that the Headmaster's office is simply the best spot for an enlightening read.

Hermione knew a hint when she heard one. Erudite Elephants?

Minerva nodded imperceptibly.

Hermione stepped through the Floo, feeling the green flames decontaminating her body (this was one of the main reasons why Wizarding households were largely protected from virulent diseases and parasites, as long as the individual was not infectious themselves), then shifted fluidly into her human form, a determined grin upon her face.

"I'll get to the bottom of this, if it's the last thing I do," she said to herself, practically running towards the staircase that would take her to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

Hermione jerked awake to find that she'd fallen asleep at some point, her face squished into the pages of a book. She shook her head to clear the sleep from her brain and looked over at the feverish notes she'd taken the night before.

The researcher in her had been over the moon at her newfound access to the library in the Headmaster's office. She'd stolen some books from it through the open window at the end of her sixth year, of course, but she found that there had been all manner of books she hadn't even known to Accio.

There had been books on curses, on magical agreements, and on complications due to magical illnesses. Hermione had even looked into obscure magical creatures that might alter one's behavior, but there hadn't been much that seemed to fit.

It was only when she was putting away the books she'd strewn about the desk that a book of fairytales fell from the shelf and onto the floor, and upon closer inspection, Hermione found a slim, red-leather-bound book nestled in its pages.

"Curious," she said, turning it over. It was unmarked, which was odd, for there were no other similarly sized volumes in the room. She opened it, and the book immediately sparked in her fingers, causing her to drop it. A smell like ozone wafted up from the book as the spell disintegrated before her eyes and it fell open.

Hermione bent down, her wand at the ready, but the book was no longer spelled. She peered down at the writing, which was written in a familiar spidery hand, and her eyes narrowed with fury.

* * *

Hermione flew through the floo with her whiskers twitching wildly, the book held fast in her teeth. He's been Compulsed. By Dumbledore, I imagine?

It happened a long time ago, Hermione. Minerva hopped down from the bed. Severus was still sleeping, and the addition of a cool washcloth to his forehead and empty phials on the side table showed that Minerva had been keeping to the schedule of treatment. I wasn't even made aware of it until about five years into his contract. You must understand—it wasn't done out of malice, but in the end, it was a cruel as any curse. Even now, the magic protecting it only allows it to be seen by an authorized member of staff who come across it without directly being told where, specifically to look.

He mustn't have been thinking. I mean...he agreed to—

Anything. Minerva nodded solemnly, but it still looked more endearing than anything in her tabby form.

And no distractions or entanglements? He was only… Hermione paused, doing the mental math. Merlin's hat...he was three years younger than I am when he agreed to this!

You will remember that you were far younger when you and your friends bested a basilisk, Minerva replied. Imagine if Severus had gotten married or started a family. His priorities would shift. Albus needed to be certain that this would not happen, especially with Voldemort's return. Severus and I have been colleagues for a long time, and our rivalry has been more friendly than not, but there was absolutely no potential for us to become more than that.

Hermione let out a bit of a squeak at Minerva's insinuation. We were only ever just friends…

Oh, Hermione, do you even know what happens if he crosses the line?

Hermione shook her head. I've read through this and I don't see anything that specifically mentions consequences. But if there are, then why would Severus—

The man in question began to cough, his forehead compress slipping down onto his pillow, and he cracked open dark, slitted eyes. Do you two mind keeping your voices down? Some people are trying to sleep off a murderous flu!

Minerva turned her paw inward to inspect her partially-unsheathed claws for a moment, then loped off towards the floo. I'll leave that little revelation to him. It is, after all, his secret.

Severus' eyes opened wider in shock. What did you—secret? Damn, Minerva, you didn't—

It would have come out eventually. I'll give you two some time alone to talk it out. Minerva stood with her back to the flames, her eyes glowing softly in the firelight before stepping into them at last. After all, Severus, it might be your last chance to do so.

* * *

The moment the roar of the flames cut out, Hermione had turned to Severus, waving her paws apologetically. I honestly...I didn't mean to meddle!

As opposed to every other time that you meddled on purpose? The tone of his mind-voice was rueful and tired, but he hadn't started yelling (in her head) or yowling (out loud), so Hermione considered that was probably a good sign.

I...I only just found out. About this. She held up the thin book in her mouth and placed it gently onto the bed near his hand.

He groaned, his cat-ears twitching, and she had to hold his hand back from accidentally reaching up and scratching his eyes out with his semi-transformed long, sharp nails. Unable to cover his eyes with his hands, he stared at where her paw rested against his skin. Of course you'd figure all of this out when I'm practically on my deathbed. Perhaps that's why I'm sick in the first place. Albus never was very clear about the dire consequences for breaking the Compulsion, and even added language into the written spell script to keep me from thinking about the particulars for any extended period of time. I suspect it's because he knew if anyone could devise a way to break it, I would be the one to do so. Still, I became less and less afraid of the consequences each time you visited and I received no magical torment for my troubles. By the end...I almost… He trailed off, seemingly becoming aware that he was rambling in an uncharacteristic manner. I was careless.

I felt the same. Hermione's paw wrapped around his thumb and she squeezed it gently. No...that's wrong. I feel the same. But loving someone isn't careless, Severus.

Severus' eyes widened and he seemed to steady himself for a magical blow—one that never came. Even though he was the only one affected by the Black Cat Flu, both of them were breathing heavily. As the moments drew on, his eyes darted back and forth, and Hermione could see now how his pupils had gone from slitted to circular again. She reached up to press her paw against his forehead. He was cooler, now, too. She nearly squeaked with happiness when his tail abruptly disappeared and all that was visible from the edges of his hairline were two tiny points where the cat ears had been.

I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier, but I was only reasonably sure it would work, she said softly, and despite her reservations, she pushed herself to nuzzle her wet nose gently against his cheek in a display of affection. When he did not flinch or pull away, she scooted herself onto the bed and cuddled into his side. At first, he tensed, then relaxed. Her fur was so soft and comforting that he instinctively brushed the back of his hand against it.

How have you negated the pain? Is this yet another benefit of your animagus form? His mind-voice was almost comically confused, but she was encouraged as he pulled his arm around her, his clawed fingers softening into human fingernails as his fingers burrowed into layer after layer of thick, silky fur.

I was testing a theory. If we were no longer colleagues, the compulsion would lose its power over us until I could properly work out a more permanent solution.

What? But how—

Minerva should be reading my letter as we speak, actually, she said, snuffling against his neck, her paws grasping gently around his fingers, I quit.

"WHAT?!" Severus' free arm rose to cup his throat as the words exploded from his lips.

I quit. Because there's plenty of jobs for a Healer, but there's only one you, and when it comes down to what calls out more deeply to my heart, you will always win.

"You're— but— that's—" Severus was sputtering, now, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

Hermione pulled her wand free from her pouch and cast a diagnostic spell to check him for virulence. In a moment, Severus found himself with a very human witch in his arms. "What I mean to say is that I love you no matter what, Severus Snape," she blurted, her face growing scarlet with her blatant confession.

"I look like hell," he complained, but he made no move to release her.

She let out a soft laugh at the look on his face, which was at odds with how firmly he held her. "But you're here, and you haven't pushed me away, so I'm going to consider it a good sign anyway."

"I—" he started, but she placed a finger over his lips.

"Don't say it unless you mean it. In fact, you don't have to say anything. But...if I truly was the cause of your suffering all this time, even if I didn't know, I apologize."

"No, you don't understand. I hadn't dared to hope that...that you would feel...similarly, and if you had...I didn't want to see you suffer. I couldn't risk the potential pain I would be inflicting upon you if the Compulsion worked in a...mutually destructive manner. How was I to know that it only affected Hogwarts and the surrounding area?"

"You idiot," Hermione said, but she was smiling into his chest, "I wouldn't have let you bear it alone."

"Indeed. I only wish I'd realized it sooner." He, too, was smiling tiredly, as though the merest lifting of his lips took a great effort. "Maybe I ought to get embarrassing and potentially life-threatening diseases more often."

"Is that so?" Hermione asked.

"No, not really. But I must admit that this is the first time I have ever found myself relieved to have been seriously ill."

"Of course, next time, I hope you will not require the excuse of being on death's door to cuddle with me," Hermione said playfully. "I am capable of many forms of generosity."

"And I," Severus said, turning and placing a kiss on her lips, "would be honored to receive each one."


End file.
